


One Rainy Night

by PaxterHobber



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Good Guy Derek Hale, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Prostitution, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 23:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17631986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxterHobber/pseuds/PaxterHobber
Summary: Hesitantly, Derek lowers the window a bit and barks: “What?”“Hey, handsome! Looking for some company?” The boy asks and gives Derek what he probably thinks is a seductive smile. It’s hard to be sexy though when he looks like a drowned rat. His teeth are visibly chattering and his lips have a purplish color that makes Derek wince in sympathy.“Get in!” He hears himself sayOr in which Derek takes in Stiles, who's down on his luck, and takes care of him for the night.





	One Rainy Night

 

Derek curses for the tenth time as he stops the car by the curb. This is just perfect. He was looking forward to a nice relaxing evening, watching Netflix and drinking beer in the comfort of his home, and instead he was driving around lost in one of the shadiest parts of the town in ice-cold pouring rain.

Serves him right, though. He thought he’d be able to avoid some of the traffic by taking a short cut and got completely lost. And then, despite having no one to impress, he refused to turn on his navigation and spent a good thirty minutes just driving around like an idiot.

“This fucking town,” he murmurs as he fumbles around the glove department for his phone. He’s ready to admit defeat and starts to enter his address into Google Maps.

A knock on the window startles him so much he drops the phone and it slips underneath the seat.

“What the fuck do you-” he starts but all words leave him when he sees the boy standing on the sidewalk. Hesitantly, Derek lowers the window a bit and barks: “What?”

“Hey, handsome! Looking for some company?” The boy asks and gives Derek what he probably thinks is a seductive smile. It’s hard to be sexy though when he looks like a drowned rat. His teeth are visibly chattering and his lips have a purplish color that makes Derek wince in sympathy.

“Get in!” He hears himself say. It’s like his mouth has a will of its own and before Derek can get his brain back on, the boy is already sitting in the passenger’s seat, dripping all over his beloved car. Immediately he puts his hands in front of the heater, groaning. After a while, he seems to remember where he is and turns to Derek.

“So, um, yeah. What are you in the mood for? It’s hundred fifty for an hour. Fifty if you only want a blow job.”

Derek takes a closer look at the boy. He’s skinny and his wet unruly brown hair is sticking to his face but it’s still hard to miss how handsome he is. Large amber eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes, cute upturned nose and delicate pale skin dotted by moles. Derek is anything but aroused though by the sight of him. If anything, he feels sorry and worried. The kid looks barely eighteen and nervous as hell.

He clearly takes his scrutiny the wrong way as he starts to stammer quickly: “I can give you a discount, though. Look it’s really cold tonight. I’ll give you a blow job for a hot meal.”

Yep, Derek was right. He’s definitely desperate and everything about this situation makes Derek feel uneasy. “How much for the whole night?” he asks finally because there’s no way he’s sending him back to this downpour.

“Um… I don’t.. Three hundred? You’re not some kind of sadist or murderer, though, are you? Not that you would tell me if you were, huh? Seriously though, please don’t kill me. Don’t take it the wrong way but you kinda look like one.”

Derek rolls his eyes and fishes the phone from under the seat. “Relax. I promise I won’t kill you. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Stiles.”

“I’m Derek.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek.”

Stiles is silent for the rest of the drive. It seems he gave up on trying to seduce Derek and just sits there, hunched on himself, as if trying to take up as little space as possible, and stares out of the window.

When Derek parks in front of the apartment building, Stiles looks around curiously. “We’re not going to a motel?”

“No, I live here.”

“Oh, cool!”

Stiles’ nerves seem to return as Derek opens the door to his apartment. Timidly, he walks in and then just proceeds to stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Any chance I can take a shower first?” he asks nervously.

“Yeah sure, go ahead. Take as long as you need. And put your clothes in the washing machine.”

“But-“

“I’ll throw them the drier, they’ll be ready in the morning.”

“Okay,” Stiles still sounds uncertain. Clutching at his smelly wet clothes self-consciously, he finally disappears in the bathroom and Derek lets out a sigh. What the hell is he doing? Well, it’s too late to kick him out now so he might just roll with it.

He goes through his closet and finds the smallest pair of sweatpants. It has a string at the waist and hopefully it won’t slide right of Stiles’ bony hips. Grabbing a shirt as well, he deposits the clothes inside the already steaming bathroom.

Next he takes out the steaks he’s been saving for himself. The kid could definitely use a piece of meat. God know when his last meal was.

Stiles comes out of the bathroom just as Derek is draining the potatoes, with the steaks already resting on the cutting board. He almost drops the pot when he sees that he’s naked, save for the towel wrapped around his waist.

“I left you some clothes in the bathroom,” Derek grits out, forcing his eyes back to the potatoes.

“Oh! Was I supposed to…? I thought that…” he gestures awkwardly between them and Derek feels the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. This kid is definitely not some seasoned hooker. In fact, Derek wouldn’t be surprised if this was his first time trying to sell his body. Again, a heavy feeling settles in his stomach. In what kind of shitty situation does he have to be in to resolve to this, despite being clearly terrified?

In a moment, Stiles comes back, wearing Derek’s clothes and looking even smaller and more fragile than before. Derek puts down the pot and turns to Stiles. “Look, I’m not going to have sex with you.”

“What?” Stiles takes a few confused steps back. “But then, why-?”

“You’ll still get your money. Here,” he places the stack of twenties that he’d prepared while Stiles was taking a shower. “I just thought you could use a break.”

“I don’t need your fucking charity,” Stiles spews.

“You kinda do, though, don’t you?” Derek shrugs. “Look, you’re free to leave.” He opens the main door, letting in a waft of icy cold air. He takes a few steps back to demonstrate he’s not going to stop Stiles.

“You can take your money and leave. Or you can have some dinner with me, watch TV and sleep on the couch. Your choice.”

Stiles stands there for a long time. The battle of pride against his survival instincts is plain on his face. In the end, he just sags and closes the door. “Fine,” he mumbles and doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes as he reluctantly sits at the table.

Derek turns back to the stove and leaves him be. He’s not going to give him a lecture about life choices or pry why the hell he’s doing this. Life sucks sometimes. Derek knows that better than anyone. Who is he to judge.

Instead, he adds and extra piece of meat on Stiles’ plate and grabs him a beer from the fridge. Stiles doesn’t dig right away, he just watches the food distrustfully.

“It’s not drugged or anything, you know?” Derek says causally around a mouthful of steak. In fact, it’s delicious, if Derek may say so himself.

“Yeah but that’s exactly what someone who drugged my food would say.”

“Why would I even need to drug you? I already have you in my apartment.”

That’s clearly the wrong thing to say and Derek wants to smack himself. Stiles’ face turns a several shades paler and his whisky colored eyes grow wide.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong, I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, fuck it, I’m starving!” Stiles sounds resigned to his fate as he finally stuffs him mouth full. The next ten minutes are filled with only the clinking of cutlery as Stiles practically devours the meal, as if he was afraid Derek’s going to snatch the plate away at any moment. Derek’s stomach hurts in sympathy only from looking at him swallow without barely chewing.

Finally, Stiles leans back and groans. “I don’t think I can fit any more in there,” he pats his stomach. “Thank you.”

They move to the couch with their beers. Derek makes himself comfortable, throwing his legs on the coffee table, while Stiles sits rigidly still, pressed against the other side of the couch, putting as much space between them as possible.

“So, what do you wanna watch?”

“Can we maybe watch Star Wars? These have always been my favorite movies… I haven’t seen them in ages…”

“Sure, why not.”

Derek puts on the first movie and they watch in silence as the text starts to roll on the screen. Stiles continues sipping at his beer and soon he starts to slouch on the couch and his eyes are drooping. Inch by inch, he’s scooting closer until he’s resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m exhausted,” he says and his words slur a little. Drunk after one beer, Derek thinks and rolls his eyes internally. No wonder, though. The kid looks like he weighs 120 pounds soaking wet.

“You’re nice, I like you,” Stiles continues to mumble and Derek fights hard not to smile. There’s really nothing funny about this situation. “You may look like a serial killer but you’re actually pretty cool. You would’ve made a good first customer. And I like your eyebrows,” Stiles is babbling and this time, Derek can’t help but roll his eyes fondly.

“Alright, I think you should get some sleep.”

Derek gets up despite Stiles’ whines of protest and grabs a blanket from the closet. When he comes back, Stiles is already half-asleep. As he tucks him in and puts the movie on mute, he hears him mumble:

“I’m just so tired, you know? I’ve really tried but… I lost the house and nobody wants to hire a fucking hobo…” He turns his face to the pillow and the next moment he’s snoring lightly.

Derek watches him for a long time, his heart aching for the stranger on his couch. It sucks and he doesn’t know how to make this any better. He finishes the movie without sound, not really paying any attention to what’s going on the screen, too lost in thought.

The beep of the drier brings him back to reality and Derek takes the clothes out and folds them in a neat pile next to the couch. Struck by a sudden idea, he grabs a piece of paper and scribbles: _Ambrosia Café on Myrtle Street. Tell Boyd (the manager) I sent you. He’s looking for a barista._

He hides the piece of paper together with the cash in the pocket of Stiles’ jacket. A little of the tension leaves his body. He finally realizes how exhausted he is and quietly tip toes to his bedroom.

 

As expected, the apartment is empty by the time Derek wakes up. There’s no sign Stiles was even here. The couch is perfectly made, with the blanket folded neatly over the backrest and all pillows fluffed. It occurs to Derek that he should have made some sandwiches for Stiles to take but it’s too late now. Judging from the fridge content, Stiles left without any breakfast.

Derek sips at his coffee and looks out of the window into the cloudy cold morning. Who knows where he’s now. At least it’s stopped raining, Derek thinks, as he gets back to his morning routine.

 

It’s a week later that he drives by the café. Derek would like to think that he just happens to pass by but that would be a lie. As much as he tried, he hasn’t been able to get Stiles out of his head. He even drove around the shady parts of town in hope of seeing the familiar figure again, just to make sure he’s alive. There were no signs of him though and Derek’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

With his heart already beating nervously, he stops the car on the street and twists his neck to see through the café’s window. There, behind the counter, wearing a green apron and a huge smile on his face, is Stiles, currently talking animatedly to a customer, and Derek’s stomach does a weird thing at the sight of him.

He watches him for a while, feeling his own smile tugging at his face, and then just drives away, satisfied.

                    

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I've been carrying in my head for a while and really wanted to write, enjoy! Let me know what you think:)


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